Patchwork

There are five people in the car and only four seatbelts.  An argument occurs over their usage.  Another over the decision to drive at all.  In the end adventure defeats common sense and the little Volkswagen Beetle putters off under its heavy load onto the packed sand of the ocean beach.  Tire tracks spaghetti all across the makeshift highway, each leading to a parked car, its beach-going contents spilled out onto the sand.  Blankets are billowed open and parachuted onto the earth, the edges buried under heavy scoops of sand to guard against steady ocean winds.

Upon these blankets base camp is set.  Moms open coolers filled wit the comforts of home.  Young women lay back and collect sunlight on their bodies.  Teenagers drink beer and stand watch for authorities like meerkats.

Blankets are stacked with towels, refreshments, sunscreen and loved-ones awaiting the return of their playful hearts who splash in the shallow end of the deep, deep end of the ocean.  The blankets are the patchwork farms of fly-over states, each a little different but of similar patters.  Plastic shovels and buckets are the farm equipment.  White bread sandwiches are the offerings from the kitchen.  The blanket is now a table cloth and the table is set as she reads a glossy magazine.  She is the hearth.

Far off, tiny bodies come splashing out of the shallow end of the deep, deep ocean.  Sand sticks to their feet and legs as they run across the spaghetti tire tracks.  The overloaded Beetle makes sure to give them plenty of room.  They approach, kicking up dry sand, blue-lipped and shivering from teeth to toes.  The ocean has taken their heat in return for endless grins.

In this last moment, the blanket is immaculate, red, waiting for ruin.  It is a tiny island in the middle of the sea and the happy survivors of a shipwreck approach, seeing their mother, and the cooler, and her love.

They crash onto the perfect blanket like shore-waves made of sand and chilled bones.  The edges com unburied and vulnerable to the wind but the sandy bodies will hold it down.

She is welcoming them back and happily ruining her swim suit.  Sandwiches are passed out.  The chattering of teeth subsides and tales of the great ocean begin.  Draped in towels, they are the memories that will bless picture frames in the hallway.  The unknowing participants of future family reunions, their own children in tow.  They are the hearts filled with love congregating from around beyond the sea, one by one, to the tiny red patchwork farm.

The blanket is six foot by six foot and one size fits all.